At Last
by slightlytookish
Summary: Rohan rides to aid Gondor, and two small hobbits from the Shire strive to do the best that they can. A set of four doubledrabbles, two each for Merry and Pippin, leading up to the moment that the Rohirrim arrive at Minas Tirith. Written for Marigold's Cha


A/N: Written for Marigold's Challenge 27.

Merry woke from a restless sleep and sat up, shivering. He glanced around the camp. The men were beginning to stir in search of breakfast and nearby sat Dernhelm, eating in characteristic silence.

There was a small fire and Merry huddled close to it, still wrapped in his thin blanket. He retrieved his own meager supply of food and as he ate his thoughts strayed often to Pippin, and to Frodo and Sam. He wondered if they were as wretchedly lonely as he was now. It was no easy task for a hobbit to be without his friends, and Merry was as good as alone, ignored by the men and with only Dernhelm as his constant, brooding companion.

With a sigh Merry poked at the fire with a branch. The logs shifted, crackling. "My cousin is there," he said quietly. "In Minas Tirith."

Dernhelm turned to him, silent but listening. Merry went on. "Gandalf took him. It all happened so fast or else I think he would have brought me as well. I wish he had," he added, his eyes wandering to the dark eastern sky. "I worry that we won't arrive in time."

Dernhelm frowned and did not speak.

* * *

"Will Merry come with the Riders of Rohan? I think he will."

"Do you?" Gandalf turned from the window. "Why?"

"I saw him," Pippin said simply. "As clearly as I see you now. He wore a helm and carried a shield, and rode with a young soldier on a grey horse. Besides, Merry wouldn't stay behind unless they tied him up. I wonder who that soldier was. Wouldn't Merry stay with Strider?" His eyes grew wide. "Do you think something has happened to our friends, Gandalf?"

The wizard took a drink of water, and for a long moment he did not answer. "_Where will wants not, a way opens_," he murmured at last. "They say that in Rohan. Merry has a big heart, and most of it belongs to you. You may yet see your cousin in Minas Tirith. You are very much a Took, my lad. I'll not doubt that you have the Sight, given your usual mischief."

"Gandalf, you sound almost cheerful," Pippin exclaimed, beaming. He yawned. "I think I can sleep now."

"Impertinent hobbit!" Gandalf laughed. "Sleep then, while you can. There is a battle to fight yet."

Pippin burrowed in his blankets. He felt almost hopeful.

* * *

Before them stretched the Pelennor and beyond it lay the burning City, its flames glowing brightly in the dark. The Rohirrim were quiet, the horses wary. Dernhelm fidgeted restlessly, turning often to the king, watching the old man in concern.

Merry peered around Dernhelm. Smoke tingled in his nostrils and his heart sank at the sight of the burning city. He wondered where Pippin was in all the smoke and flames. Had he escaped to safety, or had he been made to fight? Knowing Pippin, he was in the thick of things. Merry could not help but worry, imagining dozens of terrible things that could have befallen his cousin.

Suddenly the first rays of the sun shone through the darkness, and fresh air filled Merry's lungs. The king's voice filled his ears, followed by the sound of horns blowing. The men began to sing. Hope returned to Merry; they were in time, they were not too late to help Gondor, and he was not too late to help Pippin.

Already the king was charging down the field, and Merry clung tightly to Dernhelm's waist as they followed close behind. Thousands of hooves pounded against the earth.

They were nearly there.

* * *

The smell of smoke and blood hung in the air, smothering Pippin, choking him as he ran through the city searching for Gandalf. He tripped and nearly fell, stumbling over cobblestones before righting himself. Gandalf had gone to the Gate, they had said, but it was a long distance for short legs to run, and Pippin had been running all the way from Rath Dinen.

Rounding a corner, Pippin halted, his heart stuttering wildly in his chest. Just ahead were Gandalf and Shadowfax, glimmering like two bright lights in the dark shadow cast by a Black Rider.

Pippin threw himself against the wall, his mind racing. Remembering Moria he withdrew his sword with a shaky hand. Gandalf would not stand alone.

A rooster crowed, sounding strange to Pippin's ears and reminding him of home. In the distance great horns answered. They drew the wraith's attention and its winged beast leapt into the air, carrying its master away. Overhead the darkness rolled back just enough for Pippin to notice the first faint light of the dawn creeping across the sky. Tears filled his eyes and hope surged within him once more. In his heart, Pippin knew.

_Rohan had come at last_.

The Return of the King, "The Siege of Gondor"


End file.
